


strawberry pancakes

by art_mis



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breakfast in Bed, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gift Fic, Happy Valentines Day!!, Kissing, POV Third Person, Pet Names, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, apprentice's name is never specified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_mis/pseuds/art_mis
Summary: Muriel wakes up to his lover on Valentine's Day and is pretty happy about it.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	strawberry pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strawberrypeaches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrypeaches/gifts).



> this is a valentine's day gift for my valentine on valentine's day as a valentine's day gift for valentine's
> 
> but anyone else can enjoy it too!!!

It’s just before sunrise when he wakes up—Muriel can tell from the dazed lights filtering in from underneath the window, too soft and milky from the fading blues of night to truly be dawn just yet. It wasn’t a normal awakening, because the sheets are ruffled and the weight of his lover’s body on the bed has shifted. He makes an incomprehensible noise—he thinks it’s a grumbly one, but he can’t quite tell, still on the verge of dozing off again. He feels a gentle kiss against his cheek and he grunts in appreciation, forcing his eyes shut out of desperation to not wake just yet. He feels her fingers stroke along his own and he squeezes them, gently, because he loves her, and he can’t verbalize it in any other way right now. She gently glides away from him, the mattress squeaking faintly as she rises to her feet. It wasn’t unusual to take a bathroom break, so he didn’t think too much about it, curling closer into the warm space left behind by her as the door closes softly. Once more, he falls to sleep.

When he wakes the second time, it’s to his face being peppered in kisses. It’s almost ticklish, so he can’t help the rough chuckle that squeezes its way out into his groggy voice, hazily opening his eyes. There is his lover, and she’s smiling at him so sweetly, long lashes fluttering, hair whimsy around her ears. She brings her fingers over his cheekbones, rubbing softly at his skin. He smiles, slow and gentle.

“...Good morning.” He greets in what he believes to be an unattractive croak.

But her smile only widens into a grin, leaning forward and pressing kisses all over his face like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. All he can do is close his eyes and savor it, sighing as her lips tease at the corner of his mouth, before finally giving him a real kiss. He sinks into it like one sinks into sunlight, cherishing the warmth of her as he pulls her closer. She squeals when he tries to pull her into the bed with him.

“Stop, stop,  _ stop!”  _ She laughs, a giggling  _ mess  _ as he manages to tug her into the bed, squeezing her affectionately in his arms as he begins leaving butterfly-light kisses along her jawline. “Please! I made you  _ breakfast.” _

“Breakfast?” He echoes, suddenly dazed. He pauses mid-kiss, allowing her to use his arms as leverage to sit up. She glances, and he follows her gaze—then, he finally sees it: a cute, homey, wooden tray, with a plate piled high with pancakes, layered over with syrup and spread with butter, garnished with berries. To the side, there were some slices of bacon, and two poached eggs. A glass of orange juice rests beside it, and a piping cup of coffee. He spots a bouquet of forget-me-nots, and his breath catches. She remembered his favorite flower.

When he looks back at her, her smile is sheepish. “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

Muriel looks towards the window. When he first woke up, it wasn’t quite yet dawn—but now it was a glimmering day, with birds chirping outside. He looks for the clock—it was almost eight in the morning. She didn’t wake up for what he thought, then—she woke up to make him  _ this. _

His mouth doesn’t quite know how to work, his thoughts reeling over the sequence of events so far. When he looks back at his lover, she looks almost anxious with anticipation, but cheerful with her smile. “You… made me breakfast?”

“I did!” She affirmed, taking one of his large hands into both of her small ones. “Do… you like it?”

She bites her lip, waiting for him to answer with the patience of a saint.

His heart flutters in his chest, and he slowly sits up. She shifts with him, letting him take all the space he needs—and then he stops her, closing one of his hands around her cheek. He sighs, meeting her eyes gently as he rubs a thumb along her skin, unable to stop the relaxed, sleepy smile that quirks subtly at his lips. She catches it—she always does, eyes lighting up with obvious delight. His heart has never felt more full than when he looks at her.

“I love it.” He answers, voice warm and crackly like a hearth. He brings up his other hand, cupping her cheeks in his palms. “And I love  _ you _ .”

She laughs as he holds her face, and she doesn’t hesitate to close her eyes when he leans in and kisses her, tender and full of all his love. A thank you, and a promise, all at once.

When he pulls away, she almost looks like on the verge of tears, with how overwhelmed she is by her own emotions. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, humming softly underneath his breath.

“Sit beside me.” He says, and she listens, eagerly crawling onto her side of the bed. It’s colder now from her absence, but he is all too happy to dotingly tug the blankets over her legs to keep her warm. With careful hands, he guides the tray away from its current stand, setting it instead in the safest place between them.

Although his immediate desire is to go for the coffee, he ignores it to instead pick up the fork and cut it through the pancakes. They look fluffy and soft, and his mouth waters as he lathers it around in some of the syrup leftover on the bottom of the plate. It’s then he notices that the pancakes look like they’re encrusted with rubies—little dots of red, and his thought immediately goes to the strawberries she had bought at the grocery store yesterday.

“You didn’t have to go through… all the work to make these.” He says, feeling his skin flush.

“I wanted to.” Her tone is kind, and she moves to a rest a hand affectionately on his knee. “You mean a lot to me, Muriel. I wanted to show you that.”

He glances at her, gut twisting with butterflies and his chest warming with love. For a moment, he just looks at her, as daylight casts warm colors along her skin, outlining her hair into a contrasting silhouette. Although he’s certain he’s blushing, he powers through, offering her a small smile of gratitude.

“You mean a lot to me, too.” He almost whispers it, but she hears it. Her smile is more jittery as her eyes turn watery.

Muriel moves to rest his hand on the one she had put over his knee. It doesn’t take much coaxing, she immediately lays her hand palm-up to let him intertwine their fingers. It was one of his favorite things—to be able to just hold her hand like this, to feel connected to her physically, somehow.

He spears his fork through the slice of pancake he had made for himself, careful not to drip any of the syrup as he brings it to his mouth. The moment he eats it, the fruity taste of the strawberries immediately catches his attention. The pancake had looked incredibly fluffy, and the taste of it matched that perfectly—soft, airy, and light, as if he was biting through a sweet cloud. Although he’d deny it if anyone suggested he liked sweet things, she always knew this was something that he truly enjoyed.

“Is it good?” She asks, peering at him near his shoulder.

He hums, mouth full as she rests her head against him, looking up at him through her lashes.

“It’s delicious.” He finally answers.

She grins.

He takes his fork and slices through the pancake again—except this time, when he picks it up, he brings it towards her mouth, instead. She immediately sits up, seeming a little startled.

“This is  _ your  _ breakfast.” She reminds him, but there’s poorly-concealed delight at being able to eat some.

“It is.” He agrees, observing her with gentle eyes. “But I want to share it with you.”

Her cheeks color, and he can’t help the soft quirk of his lips. She always looked cute, like that. She doesn’t protest further, eagerly taking the pancake into her mouth. He pulls the fork away, letting it come to a rest on the tray as she chews. As he picks up the bacon, she finally speaks up again.

“Wow, I’m actually the  _ best  _ chef.”

He lets out a low, gravelly chuckle. “You are.”

She grins, laughing breathily as she nestles up against his arm. He breaks the bacon in half, offering her the bigger one. She takes it, and they both share a moment of quiet as they eat together.

When he sees the sun in the sky, they had gone through most of their food by then. She’s drinking down the last of his orange juice, the final slice of pancake left just for her. The birds are still chirping outside, and he has stopped, letting his coffee mug warm his palms as he gazes over two robins that are eating from the bird feeder in the yard.

There’s the soft, familiar trot of dog feet, and then Inanna gently pushes her head against the cracked-open door, eagerly making her way into the bedroom.

His lover sets down the glass, now empty, and gasps. “Hi, baby! Come here, Inanna!”

Immediately, she wags her tail, hurriedly making her way towards his lover’s eager, waiting arms.

“Careful.” He warns half-heartedly, watching with amusement as Inanna leaps onto the bed. The mattress ripples, and he braces the tray to avoid anything toppling over. Her tail makes a loud thumping noise each time it hits against the covers, delightedly covering his lover’s face in kisses.

“Aww, wait, it’s time for your breakfast, too, huh?” His lover says, smiling sweetly.

Inanna just looks at her with her big, green eyes, making a soft huffing noise.

“We have to take the dishes back to the sink, anyway.” He decides, gathering the tray into his hands.

He leads the way to the kitchen, and as he hears his lover’s cooing and Inanna’s trotting, he knows they have both followed. He smiles to himself, determined to memorize the sound of her voice behind him for the rest of his life, even if it was something so little. It would always be something he’d cherish.

The dog food bowl is filled, and the dishes are left to soak to get the syrup off the plates.

It’s then that he pulls his lover close to him by the kitchen sink, hands still subtly damp from soap suds as he embraces her against his chest. She sighs into him, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt along his back. For a moment, they just hold each other, and he brushes a hand through her hair, resting his lips against her forehead.

“I have a surprise for you, too.” He finally says, voice quiet, out of fear he’d break the moment.

He can feel her smile rather than see it, but then she tilts her chin up and looks at him. “You do?”

“Yes.”

She grins. “Show me?”

He slowly lets his hands fall from her body, and she steps back. It isn’t long, however, before they link hands, and he leads her through the house, until they make it to the backdoor. After they both slide on their shoes, they step outside.

He guides her through the grass. He can still see the robins, but a bluejay and a white pigeon has joined them, eating from the seeds that he had refilled just last night. He smiles to himself, and finally, they reach the shed.

It was a space exclusive to his wood carvings, and it’s somewhere where she doesn’t often visit. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she never really had a reason to be there. But he can see the puzzle pieces falling together in her mind when she looks at him, and he slowly opens the door. He releases her hand as he steps inside, walking towards the wood carving table.

It was sort of in a small display. Her favorite flowers, tied with two ribbons—green and her favorite color. An envelope lies underneath it, and he had drawn a heart on it, embarrassingly, addressed in his terrible handwriting— _ to my true love.  _ Then, finally, the true gift: a wooden flower pot that he had carved himself, into the resemblance of her favorite animal.

He takes these items, sacred as they are, into his trembling hands. She gasps behind him, and he swallows, already feeling himself begin to blush, and she hadn’t even opened the envelope, yet.

“You said you liked love letters.” He tries to explain, as she strides up to his side. For a moment, he observes as she runs her fingertips gently over the floral arrangement he had given her, pausing to admire the bow. “...So, I… um…”

She glances down towards the envelope, eyes soft and watery again. This time, a tear falls down her cheek, lips going wobbly, but delightedly crinkling up into a smile.

“Oh, Muriel, love…” She whispers, turning to look up at him. 

She sets the flowers back down onto the table and hugs him, tightly. Her arms squeeze around him and he holds her, too, burying his blushing face into her neck.

“You being here is the best gift you could’ve given me at all.” She tells him.

He swallows, feeling his own tears begin to build.

And they stayed there, embracing each other, swaying softly, too afraid to let go.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
